hear of Sir John Parkes shot dead in a duel? Your name, I understand, is connected with it, which I don’t care for.’
‘Nor I,’ said Allington. ‘It was an excessive act. Smythe is an excellent shot. I dare say he could have wounded him and left it at that.’
‘You speak very calmly and a man shot dead.’
‘I have seen many men shot dead. Death comes to all of us, it seems not to matter when. I wouldn’t have shot Parkes myself. I don’t believe there are circumstances in which I could be induced to fight a duel. His death is of no great significance, but seeing you question me, I will tell you. I passed a letter written to me from Parkes on to Smythe: what a business it is to behave in a manner suited to my station, whatever that station might be, for again, not the act of a gentleman.’
‘I suppose you had your reasons.’
‘I considered he had lied. From the content of the letter I think it probable he hoped Smythe and I could be induced to fight one another and he get away unscathed. Perhaps he hoped Smythe would shoot me dead. I don’t believe he had any personal animosity towards me, but my death would be a great convenience to the friend he has who lives in the rooms below these.’
‘An Italian actress,’ Tregorn said, a little confused but still anxious to probe to the bottom of the matter.
‘Until of late, my mistress. It was by the way of an experiment, not particularly satisfactory. Do you think your father would have disapproved of my keeping a mistress and curtailed my allowance accordingly?’
‘How should I know?’ Tregorn said crossly, for he thought the question inappropriate. There was nothing unusual in keeping a mistress, but it surprised him that Allington should do so. He then wondered why he was surprised. He reached forward and picked up the book Allington had been reading as if it might help him solve a mystery, but finding it to be poetry he put it down again with a look of faint horror.
‘However,’ Allington was saying, ‘I don’t wish to take another, and as the alternatives are too disagreeable, it looks like celibacy.’
Tregorn, thinking the conversation taking an even worse turn, said, ‘Why not marry? If you could support a mistress you might support a wife.’
‘When I have a place of my own I shall consider it, but I’m not everybody’s idea of a catch.’
‘A place of your own?’ Tregorn was astonished, disagreeably so. ‘These rooms seem adequate, though not if you were married. You don’t mean a place out of town?’
‘Why not?’
‘What sort of a place?’
‘An estate.’
Tregorn stared at him. His stepbrother, for that is what he surely was, seemed to be stepping out of place if he thought he would join the propertied classes. The only thing he could think to say was, ‘Whatever for?’
Allington looked at him in silence but he then said, ‘You are the only person I know who has the temerity to ask me endless questions, but I suppose the Tregorns are the only people I have who could remotely be described as my relatives. What for? To keep a pair of greyhounds.’
Tregorn, realising he was having his leg pulled, said, ‘Could you really afford such a thing?’
‘I believe so, but not yet. It’s not, therefore, necessary for you to pay me an allowance.’
Tregorn jumped to his feet and started to pace about. ‘I won’t have it said I don’t support you now my father’s dead.’
His mind had gone back ten years, to the aftermath of Waterloo. His father had received a letter from an old and revered friend, in whose regiment Allington had spent much of his military career, accusing the family of neglect because no one had gone out to Brussels to look after Allington, whom the colonel had described as the most brilliant of all young officers. Agitated at the recollection, he said, ‘We were told you would die before anyone could reach you and for days that was said, even months, yet die you would not.’
Further words of
‘Nor I,’ said Allington. ‘It was an excessive act. Smythe is an excellent shot. I dare say he could have wounded him and left it at that.’
‘You speak very calmly and a man shot dead.’
‘I have seen many men shot dead. Death comes to all of us, it seems not to matter when. I wouldn’t have shot Parkes myself. I don’t believe there are circumstances in which I could be induced to fight a duel. His death is of no great significance, but seeing you question me, I will tell you. I passed a letter written to me from Parkes on to Smythe: what a business it is to behave in a manner suited to my station, whatever that station might be, for again, not the act of a gentleman.’
‘I suppose you had your reasons.’
‘I considered he had lied. From the content of the letter I think it probable he hoped Smythe and I could be induced to fight one another and he get away unscathed. Perhaps he hoped Smythe would shoot me dead. I don’t believe he had any personal animosity towards me, but my death would be a great convenience to the friend he has who lives in the rooms below these.’
‘An Italian actress,’ Tregorn said, a little confused but still anxious to probe to the bottom of the matter.
‘Until of late, my mistress. It was by the way of an experiment, not particularly satisfactory. Do you think your father would have disapproved of my keeping a mistress and curtailed my allowance accordingly?’
‘How should I know?’ Tregorn said crossly, for he thought the question inappropriate. There was nothing unusual in keeping a mistress, but it surprised him that Allington should do so. He then wondered why he was surprised. He reached forward and picked up the book Allington had been reading as if it might help him solve a mystery, but finding it to be poetry he put it down again with a look of faint horror.
‘However,’ Allington was saying, ‘I don’t wish to take another, and as the alternatives are too disagreeable, it looks like celibacy.’
Tregorn, thinking the conversation taking an even worse turn, said, ‘Why not marry? If you could support a mistress you might support a wife.’
‘When I have a place of my own I shall consider it, but I’m not everybody’s idea of a catch.’
‘A place of your own?’ Tregorn was astonished, disagreeably so. ‘These rooms seem adequate, though not if you were married. You don’t mean a place out of town?’
‘Why not?’
‘What sort of a place?’
‘An estate.’
Tregorn stared at him. His stepbrother, for that is what he surely was, seemed to be stepping out of place if he thought he would join the propertied classes. The only thing he could think to say was, ‘Whatever for?’
Allington looked at him in silence but he then said, ‘You are the only person I know who has the temerity to ask me endless questions, but I suppose the Tregorns are the only people I have who could remotely be described as my relatives. What for? To keep a pair of greyhounds.’
Tregorn, realising he was having his leg pulled, said, ‘Could you really afford such a thing?’
‘I believe so, but not yet. It’s not, therefore, necessary for you to pay me an allowance.’
Tregorn jumped to his feet and started to pace about. ‘I won’t have it said I don’t support you now my father’s dead.’
His mind had gone back ten years, to the aftermath of Waterloo. His father had received a letter from an old and revered friend, in whose regiment Allington had spent much of his military career, accusing the family of neglect because no one had gone out to Brussels to look after Allington, whom the colonel had described as the most brilliant of all young officers. Agitated at the recollection, he said, ‘We were told you would die before anyone could reach you and for days that was said, even months, yet die you would not.’
Further words of
Similar Books
